


Underwater

by mockingjayne



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockingjayne/pseuds/mockingjayne
Summary: Lucy finds herself stuck an elevator with no one but a complete stranger to help her. AU Lyatt
Relationships: Wyatt Logan & Lucy Preston, Wyatt Logan/Lucy Preston
Kudos: 30





	Underwater

Lucy’s heels clack against the tiled floor, her eyes down, focusing on the screen of her phone. Brown hair bounces against her shoulders, her bag pulling at her shoulder, weighed down with several books.

A slight smirk makes its way to her face as another text comes in from her sister. followed by a roll of her eyes. Amy had been going on about a guy she’d just met, an overshare of details sent her way, bringing a blush to her face.

“You’re blushing, aren’t you?” She reads, and although she would love to deny her sister’s claims, she know that no one knows her better than Amy.. They’d been through everything together, forming a relationship that surpassed that of merely two people who happened to be related, but friends. Best friends.

 _“No,”_ she types back, an affronted face reacting to the screen, but the truth refusing to dissipate from her cheeks.

Looking up, she hits the button for the elevator, before glancing back down.

 _“I can’t wait for you to meet a guy, so I can be the one getting details of exactly where he put…”_ the ding of the elevator sounds, opening up to reveal a nearly empty lift.

With a heavy sigh, she steels herself into moving into the small compartment, her hands already getting a little sweaty. Positioning herself near the doors, so she can easily jump out when she reaches her floor.

Glancing to her side, she sees a man leaning up against the wall near the panel of buttons, eyes closed, as if sleeping. His arms are crossed, not even acknowledging that another person had entered the elevator. His face was a cross between tense and peaceful, like he was on the verge of being free of his worries, but hadn’t quite gotten there yet.

It’s only when they begin moving that she’s shaken from her stare, realizing that her destination is already aglow, the guy having been headed to the same floor as her.

 _“Are you asleep?”_ rests on the tip of her tongue, but she bites the question back, instead reaching into her purse to grab her phone again.

 _“I wouldn’t hold my breath,”_ she responds back to Amy, her nerves getting the best of her, festering into a jittery energy, her fingers shaking as she types out her response. Grabbing onto her necklace, she traces the edges of the locket, a habit she’d long since adopted.

Watching the numbers descend with every exhale, her breath hitches when with a sudden jolt she’s thrown off balance, her hands reaching out to grab onto something, anything to keep her from toppling over.

Her eyes, instead of growing wide with fear, close tightly, seeing static-y stars in the black, her grip squeezing until her knuckles turn white. Every breath echoing in her chest, a rattling of her entire body. But she’s steady. Planted to where she stands, as her intake of air becomes more erratic.

“You okay, ma’am?” She vaguely hears, and her face scrunches in confusion. Peeking one eye open she sees the once sleeping man, now staring down at her concerned, her grip having landed on his forearm.

She’s sure she’d be embarrassed if she wasn’t terrified out of her mind, but she’s conscious enough of her actions to remove her hand, inching away slowly until her back hits the opposite wall.

“I’m sorry,” she says with a shaky voice, her eyes skirting to every inch of the elevator, unsure of what’s going on, but knowing that fight or flight was setting in, and there was no where for her to run. “Are we…stopped?”

“Looks like it,” he says in a voice way too calm for this situation, something she finds slightly annoying.

He’s on the emergency phone before she can wrap her mind around what’s happening.

“They said it might be a while, we’re stuck between floors,” he says, again with that damn eerily calm voice, staring at her with the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

“Are you drunk?” She spits at him, her brow furrowed with worry and disbelief. No one could be that calm in this situation without help.

He doesn’t even seem offended by the suggestion, instead a smirk appears on his lips, twitching his face in a way that has her briefly forgetting that she’s locked in a death box precariously hanging between floors with nothing but cables to stop them from plummeting to their death.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just…” she gestures to the small space they’re in, her face taking one of sheer panic.

“Wildly claustrophobic?” He finishes for her, and she finds herself nearly laughing at the way one of his eyebrow raises at the guess, that same smirk almost mocking her this time around.

If she hadn’t been nervous she’d have said something to knock that smirk off his face, but she can’t help but feel her stomach drop at the thought of making him stop, instead choosing to just nod, her brown eyes wide and pleading at him.

He lowers his head, jutting out his lips in a way that feels oddly familiar to Lucy, and nods, before a smile comes to his face, a dimple appearing out of nowhere.

Taking off his jacket, she eyes him from across the space, not sure what exactly he’s doing. But then he lowers himself to the ground, one of his legs hitched up in his boots, a casual seat he’s taken.

Lucy looks at him as if he’d grown two heads, before her teeth begin to worry her bottom lip, her fingers clinging to the locket, as she paces back and forth, her heels echoing in the tiny space, and she looks over to see the man has once again closed his eyes.

His breath comes out heavy and even, syncopating her arhythmic stutter, until she finds herself stopping to stare at him. A few strands of hair falling into his eyes, his eyelashes fluttering against his skin as his eyes move beneath their cover.

Backing up again until she’s resting against the wall, she finds herself sliding down, situating herself in a heap on the ground.

She swears she sees those impossibly blue eyes peeking at her as she does so, but they quickly close when she threatens to meet them with her brown.

Kicking her heels back and forth, like she’s Dorothy and enough clicks will take her back home, she finds herself staring up at the ceiling, counting the tiles of steel sheet.

She can’t quite pinpoint why, but the walls seems to have stopped closing in on her, still there, still threatening to collapse at any second, her chest contracting, but a slow release forming within her as she listens to the gentle in and out of breath of the man across from her.

Lucy sits there like that for what feels like hours, the trapped feeling bubbling up again as the minutes tick by, but the panic refusing to do anything as she concentrates on his breathing, meeting his breath with her own.

Moving her stare to the man in question, she finds the question on the tip of her tongue again.

“Are..” she hesitates, looking around as if there was something stopping her. “Are you asleep?”

“No, ma’am,” he answers immediately, as if anticipating what she was going to say, not even the slightest bit unaware of his surroundings, instead soaking everything in, and attempting to project that energy out onto her.

“You know, we’re pretty much the same age, so you can just stop calling me ma’am,” she says with a bite, bristling at the ma’am.

That damn smirk sneaks out again, this time the full force of his stare reflecting back at her, and she can feel the goosebumps spread across her back, as she nervously looks away, refusing to get caught up in his charm.

“Your sense of calm is really annoying,” she huffs out, kicking off her heels, until they lay in the same pile as her bag.

That gets a reaction, a deep laugh, and she finds herself halfway between frustrated and blushing.

“Okay,” he says, as if completely satisfied with her assessment, just grinning over at her with a shake of his head.

“Okay?” She says, the panic rising in her voice again. “We’re trapped in an elevator, and that’s just okay to you?”

He shrugs, not really seeming too worried.

“Right, right,” she mumbles to herself, the tight space not doing anything to hide her words.

“Been through worse, ma’am,” he offers, catching her attention, a confused look painting her face, but her eyes narrowing at the title used again. At her look, he sighs, like it’s paining him to further explain. “The army will do that to you,” he says with a wistful air to his words. The haunted look swimming in this eyes enough to suggest to Lucy the things he must have gone through, while at the same time not even beginning to comprehend.

She quietly nods to herself, her hand instinctively reaching for her bag, the books weighing her down.

“The closest I’ve gotten to…war is reading about it, “ she all but whispers.

“And the claustrophobia?” He pries, and she debates with herself on telling him the story, wanting to chalk it up to just an irrational fear,. “You know the best way to get over it is to talk about what bothers you.”

“You’ve said two words to me,” she says before she can stop herself.

“I’m not bothered,” he quietly, but assuredly replies.

Crossing her arms, shielding herself from letting anyone in, she licks her lips, before glancing back at him again. The honesty in his eyes is genuine.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” she says with a sigh.

“In a stuck elevator? Yeah, neither of us should be,” he gets out with a soft laugh.

“No, not like…I umm, I was in a car accident. Car went right into the river, and it started filling with water,” she admits her lip shaking, and her eyes watering. “I thought I was gonna die. I…” she looks down, a tear sliding down her cheek, a vein in her forehead pulsing with fear. The walls of the elevator threatening to close in on her again, throwing her back into that car, the water nipping at her neck, gasping for breath, until she can feel the fear quaking in her chest, constricting.

Until a hand pulls her out.

“Hey, hey,” she hears, muffled, but constant, a warmth spreading through her, its source unclear, but she more than willingly drinks it in. “Just grab onto me,” and she complies, following the voice all but whispering in her ear, her hand coming to grip onto the hand extended to her.

Opening her eyes against of the past threat of the water engulfing her, she finds a sea of blue staring back at her, unthreatening, and instead offering a floating hope, a steadying calm among a rushing river of fear coursing through her.

She doesn’t even realize that her head has fallen against his chest, until his hand is at her back, rubbing small circles against her, her breath once again relying on his own rhythm to steady her.

It’s not until she’s practically wrapped up in him, her breathing under control, the tears having stopped, and the paralyzing fear at bay once again, that she finds herself daring to look up, her forehead brushing against the scruff on his chin. Angling her head to where she’s leaning against his shoulder, his breath finds her own, and whispers against her skin, teasing them. She catches his eyes quickly glancing down at her lips, her own brown blazing a trail to the same destination.

Lucy finds herself leaning in before her mind can catch up with her body, a ghost of a kiss whispering between them before another jolt sends her toppling into his lap.

The sensation has her scrunching her nose in a way that he must find comical because he smirks down at her, his grip tightening as to not scare her further, and she blushes not for the first time today at the position she’s found herself in.

As the elevator returns to life, moving once again to their destination, the awkwardness seems to settle in, and she moves to extricate herself from him. Standing on wobbly legs and barefoot, she gathers her things, and he takes several steps back with a clearing of his throat.

She can feel his eyes tracing her as she attempts to put her heels back on without toppling over again.

“You good?” He asks, concern and a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he asks. And now it’s her turn to be at a loss for words.

“Hmm,” she awkwardly hums, refusing to make eye contact with him.

The metal doors open, offering them an escape, and as they exit, a heavy sigh of relief flooding Lucy’s lungs. Neither of them move to head to their respective cars. Instead both linger near the door, their eyes dancing around each other, refusing to land.

“Well,” he finally breaks the silence, and she finally allows herself to look at his face. “You take care…ma’am, “ he adds at the end, and though she scoffs just the same, this time it’s out of amusement rather than irritation.

“I don’t even know your name,” she admits, a slight laugh at the absurdity that she’d sat tangled up with this man, and didn’t even know how to address him.

“Wyatt,” he says that same grin, crinkling his eyes to blue slits, dimples peeking out, as he extends his hand for her.

“Lucy,” she offers him in return, grasping his hand with her small one, the same warmth shooting through her as before. Unable to articulate this fateful meeting, unsure if it would go anywhere than just one day stuck in a metal contraption of death.

“Sorry about…before…with the…I mean, I was just…” he stumbles out, and if she wasn’t so scared that she’d enjoyed their moment more than him, she’d have laughed at how adorable it was that he was tripping over his words.

“No, I get it,” she assures him, brow furrowing. “It was…smart. It worked. I lived to tell about it,” she says, nearly with a wince at the thought of telling anyone what happened.

He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Right, well, I will…see ya around,” he gestures to the building they’d just exited.

“Yeah…see ya around,” Lucy says with a hopeful smile, that refuses to disappear even as she turns, glancing back at him, hoping that fate brings them back together again, before digging her phone out of her purse to text her sister about the man who’d pulled her up from underwater.


End file.
